


Smooth

by Ferrenbach



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Fun, Gen, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Shaving, Siblings, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrenbach/pseuds/Ferrenbach
Summary: Noodle just shaved. She used sugar scrub. Her legs are very smooth. Feel them. Feeeel them.





	Smooth

“What’cha got there, Noodle?”

Russel watched as Noodle furiously whipped something up in a small bowl.

“Sugar scrub,” she replied. “I don’t always use it, but today is the day!”

“I see,” Russel said, not seeing at all. “Would you perchance care to enlighten me on the purpose of this ‘sugar scrub’? In case it has slipped by you unnoticed, I’m old, baby girl. Old as dirt. I am ignorant in the ways of the young.”

Noodle laughed at that and Russel smiled. It was good to hear her laugh again. It had been years since they had last been together and she laughed so seldom then.

“It’s just something I saw going around online a few years back and tried it out,” she told him, tapping a wire whisk on the side of the bowl to dislodge as much white, granular goop as possible. “What I do is, first I make the sugar scrub, which is pretty much just sugar and olive oil, and then I shave my legs, and then I use the sugar scrub all over them, and then I shave them _again_ , which scrapes off all the dead skin removed by the sugar scrub, and then I rinse off, and then I’m a goddess.”

“You are always a goddess,” Russel told her.

“I know! So you can imagine how impressive it is!” Noodle said, grinning. “Would you like to try some?”

“I’m not shaving my legs just so I can candy-coat ‘em,” Russel said, leaning against the counter.

“You don’t even have to shave. It’s an exfoliant. You can just use it and wash it off. Or use a plastic scraper.”

Noodle put the bowl aside to clap her hands on Russel’s shoulders and drag them slowly down his arms, mimicking ecstasy.

“You will be so smooooth,” she drawled. “Everyone at the club will ask themselves, ‘Who is that manly tiger? Grrrr…’,” she purred.

“Not being an extensively club-faring sort, I will continue to pass on this no doubt blessed experience,” Russel said.

“Grrrr….”

“No, Noodle.”

“Oh well, can’t say I didn’t offer you the chance of a lifetime.” Noodle grinned and picked up her bowl. “I am off to achieve immortality by scraping away my cocoon of dead cells and emerging as a silken butterfly.”

“Have fun,” Russel called after her as she tripped upstairs.

 

Less than an hour later, having prepared himself a sandwich and settled in at the table to enjoy it, Russel heard creeping on the stairs. He looked up in time to see Noodle slither into the kitchen and up along side him.

“It’s done,” she intoned.

“Well, that’s ominous,” Russel said, taking a bite of his lunch. He jumped a little as Noodle kicked high enough to swing her leg over the edge of the table and slam it down just beyond his plate.

“Feel it,” she breathed.

“Get’cher damned leg off the table, this place is a pit as it is,” Russel told her. “I’d like to think we have a bit more class than that.”

“Feeeel it,” Noodle repeated, running her hand from her shin up over her knee.

Knowing she wouldn’t leave until he humoured her, Russel ran his hand up and down the side of her calf. He had to admit that, whatever the sugar scrub had done, Noodle definitely had the smoothest skin he had ever felt.

“That’s real smooth, Noodle. I’m impressed,” he told her, giving her a nod of approval.

“I told you,” she said, unleashing her inner smug. “Is it not the smoothest? Is it not silky-soft?”

“The silkiest,” Russel assured her. “Can you get it out of my lunch?”

“You have no true appreciation,” she told him, dragging her leg off the table. She hovered thoughtfully. “Where’s 2-D?”

“His room? Garden? I dunno,” Russel said. “Busy anyway. I think he’s working on that arrangement for Wednesday. Probably doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Noodle affected the air of a Disney villainess.

“Good,” she said and swanned out the door.

 

2-D sat cross-legged on his bed, a keyboard by his right side, another on the floor, and sheaves of paper strewn about. Some days music came together like magic. Other days it was a slog. Today was one of the other days, when arrangements sounded harsh and discordant, no matter what he did with them. The song itself was good, he felt, but he could not seem to tweak the synth line down to something less imposing.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Noodle slipping into the room until she had crawled onto his bed and over his papers with all the self-satisfaction of a cat.

Now I know where Katsu gets it, he thought absently.

“Toooochi,” Noodle drawled near his ear. “Guess what?”

“Hm?” he replied, still focused on his work.

“I shaved,” she persisted, knowing it would take him a while to shift gears.

“Uh-huh?” he murmured.

“I used sugar scrub,” she breathed.

“Oh?”

“I have the legs of a goddess.”

“You ought to give ‘em back. She might miss ‘em.”

Noodle paused then, not entirely certain whether 2-D was joking or not. He often said things that sounded like a joke when he was really not paying attention, but he also consciously tossed out terrible one-liners at random.

She mulled over this one for several seconds before deciding it didn’t matter and pressed on, undaunted.

“They’re so smooth,” she whispered. “Feel them.”

“I’m a bit busy, Noodle,” he said.

“Feel them,” she insisted. “It’s worth it. Feeeel them.”

When 2-D seemed disinclined to humour her, she propped her heel up on his shoulder and tugged his hair with her toes.

“Feeeel them, Toochi. You know you want to. It will only take a second, but bliss lasts a lifetime. Blissss…”

“Noodle, please.”

“Of course, you’re old, so it doesn’t have to last very long,” she said, hooking her leg over his knee. “Feeeel them.”

“Noodle,” 2-D sighed, shrugging her heel off his shoulder and unfolding himself to push her away with his leg as he gathered up papers. “I’m trying to work.”

“You wound me,” she told him, clasping her hands to her chest as though she had been shot. “You wound me. I’m wounded. I’m dying.”

“Die someplace else!” he snapped with proper sibling exasperation.

“I’m dying!” Noodle lamented and rolled off his bed to roll around in the papers on the floor. One of her feet bumped the keyboard, wheezing out a discordant whine. “Dying!”

“You’re rubbish,” he told her, trying to snatch up the papers before she wrinkled them all. “I oughta put you inna bin.”

“You’d have to catch me,” she told him, dramatically flinging her arm across her brow. “You’d have to catch me and you can’t. You’re too old. You’re wasting away. Not like me with my young, soft, smooooth legs…”

 

Russel had only time enough to finish the last bite of his sandwich before the general ruckus.

It began with a pattering on the stairs, punctuated by shrieks of mock terror and the deep _ka-thump_ of someone taking the same stairs two or three at a time. Then Noodle burst into the kitchen and screeched past him on the way to the back garden, throwing a chair behind her as she ran. Her efforts were in vain as 2-D merely vaulted the obstacle and kept running, both of them bursting through the back door, kicking up debris like a localized tornado.

They returned at a more leisurely pace, Noodle howling laughter from where she hung over 2-D’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I’m off to the rubbish bins, Russel,” she said as 2-D stomped past him, muttering curses. “Goodbye forever!”

She never made it to the bins as 2-D stopped short in the doorway, one hand grasping the back of Noodle’s legs to keep her from going over his back.

“Your skin’s really soft,” he said.

“See?” Noodle said gleefully. “I told you! I told you! Put me down so I can say it to your face!”

He did and she did and then she described the sugar scrub.

“I’m not shaving my legs,” 2-D told her. “I did it once. It itches.”

“You don’t even have to,” she told him. “You can just scrub it on your skin and wash it off, although it works better when you double-shave. It will even make everything itch _less_ because there’ll be no dead skin.”

“Well…”

“Try it! Try it with me! I’ll do your back and put on my bikini top so you can do mine.”

Which was probably all she wanted in the first place, Russel reasoned as 2-D hemmed and hawed about it before agreeing.

“Come on! I’ve got lots! We’re going to be _so smooth_ ,” Noodle crowed, directing him upstairs.

Russel watched them go and then checked the cupboards, deciding that their food situation was dire enough to merit a trip to the shops.

A long, leisurely trip.

 

Murdoc crashed on the sofa feeling sticky and annoyed. The sun was too hot and the insects too thick. It was bloody unnatural. Rain, now _that_ was weather one could get behind.

Leaning back against the sofa, one arm flung over his forehead, he wished he had an ice pack, but had neither the inclination nor the energy to stand and prepare one.

As he lay there, sibilant sounds slithered into his ears.

“What do you bloody bastards want now?” he sighed as Noodle and 2-D oozed up over the back of sofa on either side of him like kraken rising from the deep.

“I shaved,” Noodle intoned ominously.

“An’ we had a scrub,” 2-D added.

“We’re _so_ smooth,” Noodle hissed.

“Very smooth.”

“Feel ussss…”


End file.
